Gun Powder Stilettos
by FreelySheRoams
Summary: The only thing extraordinary about Penelope Garcia being a Supervisory Special Agent and Derek Morgan, a Technical Analyst, is that even in this world, they still can't seem to figure out they're supposed to be together. This is simply a twist on unrequited love.
1. Kinda, Sorta, Simply Just

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Don't worry my other stories are still being continued. This is just a fun, little story that's been with me for a while, that I finally had to let out. It's simply an alternative twist on our two favorite crime fighters. Also, I wanted to thank all my readers for your continued support, by making this story somewhat interactive. So, if there's any scenes/moments from the show that you'd like to see with their roles being reversed, please let me know!**

 **Please, Enjoy!**

 **Gun Powder Stilettos**

 _Chapter 1: Kinda, Sorta, Simply Just_

The man's lecherous smirk flashes beneath his scruffy beard as his unfocused gaze darts frantically around the warehouse. He's nervous. Already past the point of no return. Is fully aware he'll be spending the rest of his pathetic life behind bars. Has even created this awful stunt as his last mark on the world. And the only thing stopping him from making a permanent dent, is the woman standing before him, gun drawn and ready to shoot.

The agent's black polished fingertip itches to pull the trigger, but she waits. For her disdain for losing outweighs her lack of patience. It's a trait she's spent many years mastering. To keep her composure from crumbling under the strain of this job's daily brutality.

"Come on, Frank. What would your mother think if she could see you right now?" her voice is a full of disgust concealed as smooth velvet.

"She's dead!" he spat, tightening his grip on the knife. "What the fuck does it matter what she thinks?"

"It matters," keeping her voice low, she takes a small step forward. "She loved you."

"She abandoned me!" his voice echoes around the heavy machinery and the wet cement being poured into a large hole in the ground.

"No! She gave you a better life, Franklin."

"Do you know the hell I went through in foster care? Huh!" he stumbles back shielding himself behind a work bench. "I would have rather died with her out on the streets then to have lived one day with that family!"

"You're probably right," the older agent shrugged with indifference as he emerged from his hidden spot behind a rusty cement mixer.

"Stay back!" Frank raised the knife towards the child's throat. The little boy's scream was muffled by duct tape as he trembled in his abductor's arms.

"Hey, look at me," the woman spoke sharply, drawing the man's attention back to her. "Ignore him. He doesn't know anything. He's just trying to get you mad."

Frank gave her a questioning look, brows furrowed with confusion as he cautiously observed the two agents before him.

"I know he's kidnapped children," the Agent with dark hair and a fitted suit glared. "And killed them."

"I didn't kill them!" Frank barked, furiously shaking his head. "I saved them! Why can't you people see that!?"

The woman stepped closer, holding one hand up in a calming gesture. "I know, Frank. I know. You were just trying to help them," her eyes never left him as she caught sight of the rest of the team slowly getting into position behind their suspect. So far, their plan was working. Hotch and herself were pretending to take different sides. A high stakes version of good cop versus bad cop.

"You took them from their homes," gently nodding her head; doing her best to placate his fears. "So those bad people couldn't hurt them anymore."

"I'm saving them," Frank's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he swayed on his feet. "They need me."

"You're right, they need help," giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "But look at Sam," pointing to the boy trapped in his arms. "He's scared Frank. You did what you could. Now let me take care of him."

"No, you're going to send him back!"

Her narrowed gaze flicks to her right and locks with Prentiss. The raven-haired agent is hidden behind a pillar, weapon pointed at the floor as she slowly inches closer. "I just want to speak with him. Make sure he's okay."

"No! No, no you're lying!" face flushed with sweat, that slicks back his dirty hair and drips down his cheeks. "You're not taking him!"

Without warning, he abruptly charges forward, dragging the boy dangerously close to the open pit before them. The machine still whirling, pouring in huge slops of cement.

She waited, finger grazing over the trigger as she quickly calculates every outcome due to his lack of preparedness.

Then it happened. The boy, too, scared to move, dug his heels in, only to trip over his own sneakers. Frank, not anticipating the sudden dead weight, dropped Sam to the ground, and that was everything the BAU team needed.

Prentiss sprang into action, grabbing the boy and yanking him backwards towards safety. And that was her cue. Though, she wasn't one for quick kill shots. Like the large, sparkly floral barrette currently pinning back her curled, blonde tresses, and that made her stand out amongst the dark and bland regulated uniforms, she preferred to show mercy, when most would pull the trigger.

"Drop the weapon!" Hotch's commanding voice struck like lightning inside the desolate warehouse.

Frank was now screaming, tugging on his hair and waving his knife wildly in the air as his plans fell through the cracks. His dark eyes locked on Hotch as he staggered forward. It was the distraction she had been waiting for. She took a steely breath and ran, swiftly jumping over the large pit and slamming all her weight into Frank.

They tumble to the floor, and she quickly knocks his wrist against the ground, making the knife fly out of his grasp. He squirms, trying to flip her over, but she was faster. Snapping one cuff on his captured hand, she roughly jabs her knee into his ribs, causing him to keen inwards and turn away, releasing his free arm. She immediately catches it, wrestling with the now wailing man as she tugs it behind his back and secures it with a resounding click of her unregulated pink cuffs.

His face was cruelly digging into the cement and she pressed him further into the ground, as she leaned in close to whisper. "I could have shot you, Frank. You kidnapped and killed eleven kids. And no one would bat an eye if you were dead."

He snorted, drool dripping down his chin as he panted, "It's not because you didn't. You just simply couldn't. You're weak. Just like those boys."

"No, Frank," leaning back on her velvet, buckled ankle boots, she tugged him to his feet. "I get more joy from the fact you'll be spending the rest of your life behind bars. With nowhere to run. Surrounded by inmates, who despise men that hurt children."

Frank froze, sunken eyes growing wide only for his face to crumple in anger. Sucking in a breath, he spat, narrowly missing her face and that was all it took for the back of her elbow to knock into his gut. He buckled over, howling in pain and was about to charge into her when Hotch and Reid suddenly appeared and held him back. It took them several tedious moments to wrangle in the fuming man and drag him away.

"Hey Kitten, are you okay?" Rossi came up behind her, giving her that much needed space but remaining close enough so he could assess her for any injuries.

Managing a small smile, she gave him a short nod. Though, when she sensed his presence still looming over her, she reluctantly met his worried gaze. "We got him."

"No. You got him," Rossi smirked, arching his thick brow as they quietly watched the local officers help their teammates get Frank into the back seat of a squad car.

"Hey, Garcia," Prentiss called over her shoulder as she helped JJ take the young boy towards the waiting ambulance. "Nice take down."

Penelope promptly holstered her weapon and slowly dusted off her jacket. It was sleek, black faux leather, with small silvery studs on her shoulders. It cinched in her waist and flared over the tops of her hips, and the layered collar gave it a lovely vintage look that she simply couldn't live without.

"Nice save," she praised, nodding towards Sam who was plastered against the agent's waist. Prentiss shot her a proud smile, while JJ threw her hand up in a congratulatory high five.

Penelope stood there, letting her warm honey eyes sweep across the now bustling warehouse. Craning her neck, her fingers dug into the knotted tension of her shoulder. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. But it was only the afternoon, which meant the team would be back home in Quantico later today.

A broad smile graced her face as she quickly snatched her cellphone from her inner pocket. Putting it on speaker, she waited for the number one on her speed dial to pick up. It, of course, only took two rings before he answered.

"Hiya, Baby Boy!" she happily chirped.

"Well if it isn't my brazen Hot Stuff gracing me with her presence," that sweet, husky voice of her best friend purred into the phone.

Instantly her aches and pains began to subside, and the adrenaline slowly slips away. "We got him."

"Well, with killer boots like yours, I knew you would," he chuckled. She could picture him leaning back in his chair with that dazzling grin as he playfully tossed a squishy ball into the air.

"Au contraire, my technological genius, because of you we got the right address and made it just in time," releasing a content sigh. "You never cease to amaze me," absently twirling a tangled lock, she ignores Rossi's amused smirk and begins the short trek back to the SUV's.

"So, did you let someone else cuff him or did you steal the show?"

Penelope denies the implication of her temper and kicks open the rusty metal door. Letting the crisp fall air cool her heated cheeks as she squinted into the bright afternoon sky.

"Oh Morgan, your favorite crime fighter tackled him," Rossi shouted over her shoulder.

"And then she cuffed him," JJ smirked, and then took a long sip of water, before tossing an extra bottle at Prentiss.

"Don't forget she elbowed him," Reid slanted his head, carefully recalling the incident. "Oh, and hey Morgan!" he thoughtfully added his greeting, only to look sheepish at Penelope's pointed look.

"Ooh-kaay!" she huffed, fumbling to take the phone off speaker only for it to slip out of her hands and bounce off the dirt road and scrape over the pavement. "Oh frack!" she screeched, rushing to pick it up. Checking it for cracks, she harshly rubbed it over her jeans and then carefully cupped it in both hands like a delicate baby bird. "Derek?!"

"You dropped it again didn't you?" he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "That's the third phone I had to reprogram. This month."

"It barely hit the ground," voice pitching to an almost inaudible squeak as she cinched her eyes shut at her little white lie.

"Is the hard cover on it?" Derek's voice was low, and laced with a hint of smugness that drove her absolutely crazy. She never knew if she wanted to smack that goofy grin off his face or lock him in his lair and make out with him.

She tightly gripped the phone, and did her best to ignore the tiny crack in the corner of the cell, that her finger kept brushing over, and the amused chuckles of her teammates. "The what?" licking her dry lips, as she turned away from the team. Derek was the one who had done Drama in High School, but Penelope could play dumb like the best of them. "Oh the pretty purple one. Mmhmm! Oh, yep it's on there. All snug like a bug in a rug."

' _Too much_ ,' Hotch mouthed quietly next to her, and the rare grin upon his face only made it worse.

"Garcia! You know how expensive that phone is? I even let you borrow Giselle!" he clicked his tongue, and the insistent tapping of a pen could be heard in the background.

"I know," she grumbled, playing with the zipper of her jacket. "I'm still paying for the time I broke Cynthia."

Morgan's famous mantra ' _see, this is why you need a good case_!' was drowned out by the team loudly imitating him.

"Yes, Baby Boy," she nodded along, as she slumped against the heated hood of the vehicle. "It's just, they're so bulky and they make my jeans stick out all funny."

Prentiss snorted as she opened the driver's side door. "Maybe if you wore jeans that didn't hug your ass like a second skin the damn case would fit!"

Penelope's mouth fell open as she glared over her rose gold Aviator sunglasses. "Hey, just because we work for the government, doesn't mean we have to _look_ like we work for the government!"

"I, for one, think Kitten always looks lovely," Rossi waggled his thick brows at her before hopping up into the passenger seat.

"Thanks, David!" Penelope cooed, sticking her nose in the air.

"So, I'll see you soon then?" Derek cleared his throat, instantly pulling her back down to Earth.

"Yep! Order the three-cheese pizza and I'll pick up some Twizzlers," taking him off speaker, before she said goodbye. "And I swear on my retailed Jimmy Choo's, if you pick Blade Runner one more time, I'm canceling movie night for next week. And the week after. No, you know what, the whole damn month will be nixed."

"Hey now, you love that movie. I've seen you recite like half the damn lines woman," he chuckled, but when he got silence in return, he quickly added. "I promise Mama, I'll pick something not too girly and not too sci-fi-y," he teased.

"That's better," she hummed in approval, watching the whirling red and blue lights dance across the metal walls of the warehouse. "Okay, I'll see you soon!"

"You already know your seat will be warm for you."

She felt her cheeks bloom with heat and was just about to hang up when he suddenly spoke quickly and so quietly that she had to strain to hear him over all the excess noise happening around the crime scene.

"I love the way you look in your jeans, too."

And then he was gone.

Her eyes went wide as she dropped the phone to her waist and glared at it. As if she could see him in the screen and figure out what the hell he had just said. Because what he said, sounded like flirting. And who they were, were just Morgan and Garcia. Good Ol' Garcia and Morgan. You know, each other's best friends. Buddies. Pals. Totally, one hundred percent, platonic beings that didn't flirt.

Well, they were downright raunchy with their jokes and borderline inappropriate at work. But they didn't _flirt-flirt_.

No, not like that.

Penelope had tried long ago. Had always questioned the line that they often, dangerously, toed. Though, they never, ever, crossed it. Even if everyone at the FBI believed that they had.

So, if it wasn't flirting, then why did her heart just flutter like he had dazzled her with magic?

* * *

"Tell me again why we're here?" Kevin grunted, struggling to pull his abdomen off the ground and do another sit-up.

"Because..." Derek huffed, beads of sweat dripping down his scrunched up face as he pushed the heavy barbell upwards for another repetition. "I want to...get in shape."

Kevin's bent elbows struggled to hit his knees before he dropped back to the floor in a loud heap. "Well, technically, considering you have minimal body fat, I'm pretty sure you already qualify as being _fit_."

Derek frowned as he settled the bar onto the rack and gradually sat up. "That physical is coming up soon. Just wanna be prepared is all."

"That's for agents," Kevin snorted, rolling his eyes. "You know us technical analysts don't really have to worry about passing that test, right? And if they, by some slim chance, made those of us who sit at computer desks all day take this very elite physical, then you'd be like the only analyst to pass the damn thing. With flying colors."

"I mean, I wouldn't fail," Derek straightened his shoulders, like a peacock showing off its intricate feathers. "But I do need to focus on a few areas," Derek wiped his brow and tossed the white towel over his thin cotton t-shirt. Growing up he had always carried a little more pudge than others, but over the last few years he had changed some habits and really invested in creating a healthier lifestyle for himself. Though, he was now well toned, he still wasn't one to show off. "Anyway, I gotta leave in a few minutes. It's movie night."

" _Oooh!_ Okay, so what you meant to say was, you haven't been to the gym all week because your teams been gone, but now that _she's_ on her way back, you're trying to burn off all those extra wings and beer you had _,_ " a huge, knowing smirk covered Kevin's face. "Garcia..." slowly shaking his head, unable to disguise his chuckle. "Should've known."

Derek peered over his sleek tortoiseshell glasses while warily untwisting the cap to his bottle, before giving a pointed look and chugging down half the water.

Kevin gives an inelegant snort, before planting his hands on the mat and pushing himself off the floor. "Dude, seriously when are you gonna ask her out?"

The sudden sputter and heaving cough were his only answer as Derek tried not to choke on his drink.

"What!? Why! No...because she wouldn't...I-I wouldn't...what!" he wheezed, patting his own chest to help clear his throat.

"For a man that analyzes things for a living, you really can be dense at times," Kevin deadpanned, removing his own bulky frames as he roughly swiped the back of his arm across his sweaty brow. "Well Champ, when you figure it out. I expect to be the best man at the wedding."

"Kev!" Derek's eyes went wide as he desperately waved his hand up-and-down in a hushing motion. "We're at work man. Someone could hear you!"

Kevin chuckled, as he shoved his glasses back on and dug for his keys inside the pocket of his baggy, neon orange basketball shorts, only to take several big steps back and shout into the nearly empty gym. "Tell Agent Garcia I said hello while y'all cuddle on the couch watching rom-coms!"

A few off duty agents in the back of the gym chuckled in amusement, making Derek's cheeks flush scarlet with embarrassment.

"Dammit man!" Derek chucked his towel at the back of Kevin's retreating form and then stood planted in the basement of their work as the severity of his friends words began to sink in.

What the hell did Lynch know about his relationship with Garcia!?

First of all, it wasn't a relationship. It was a friendship. A purely sweet, strictly platonic, but sometimes full of heated gazes, lingering touches and dirty innuendos that instantly made his dick hard, kinda friendship.

Adjusting the sudden bulge in his sweats when the image of her flared hips and full breasts pops in his head. He goes completely still, needing to focus on calming his ragged breaths, only to fail at ignoring the pulsing thump of his heart that only ever seized when Penelope was around.

Yeah, that was a token of their friendship. Came with being her best friend. The inability to not fall absolutely in love with her.

 _Damn_!

He had been through this. Many, many times. Had spent years shoving those untouched emotions back down, and out of sight. Because there was absolutely, no way, that he was already head over heels, in love with her. And if he didn't want to fuck up the best thing that's ever happened to him, he would have to learn not to trip over his own two feet.

Derek swiftly turned around on his untied Converse, then added another fifteen pounds to each side of the barbell, before plopping back down on the bench. His steely gaze was full of determination as he rolled his shoulders a few times and laid down.

As he quickly pumped out a few more intense reps, he kept reminding himself that he wasn't sticking around the gym to make his already toned muscles pop with definition because he wanted Penelope to notice them. Considering she seemed to have an affinity for rock hard abs and firm biceps. No, he wasn't doing another quick round at the gym for her. Nope. Not his Garcia. His best friend that didn't find him attractive enough to date. Not that he had ever really asked, but he didn't need to. He had known her long enough to know all about the types of men she preferred to date.

Those bad boy, tatted jocks, with bulging muscles and the IQ of a gnat. He was revving up to cuss out her last boyfriend, Alex, no Felix, whatever, the dude had a neck tattoo, drove a custom flame painted Charger, and couldn't find his way out of a paper bag with a flashlight and a map, when his cellphone suddenly vibrates with that special ringtone. Slamming the weight down on the rack, he nearly fell off the bench trying to reach for it.

A text message pops up and that huge grin spreads across his face.

 **Just landed, my Mighty Microsoft Man!  
**

Staring at the winking emoji for a hard minute, before quickly getting up and tossing all his things into the small duffel bag, only to trip over his loose shoelace and slam his hip into the bench.

 _Easy, Morgan!_

 _It's just Penelope._

Though, his goofy grin only widens as his pace quickens. Rushing towards the elevator so he could get back home in time, and that's when he feels the familiar flurry of affection constrict that significant spot in his chest.

 _Because the woman you love is coming home..._

 _Oh my...holy shit!  
_

This time the sentiment lingers, blazing through him with the intensity of a wild fire. It steals his breath, nearly knocking him over and he has to clutch the railing to keep his suddenly tense body upright. He glares straight ahead, feebly watching as the elevator doors slide close, encasing him with a realization he wasn't sure how to fully digest.

Because Penelope was kinda, sorta, simply just…supposed to be his very good friend. _  
_

 _Keep telling yourself that, Morgan.  
_

 _And maybe one day you'll be convinced.  
_

To be continued…


	2. 57 Margaritas

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hey there, I can't believe it's already October and that the premiere is this week! Here's the next chapter, I just went with my muse and had fun with it, and like always it went a little longer than I was supposed to. My other stories shall be updated soon! Also, once again, I wanted to thank all my readers for your continued support, by making this story somewhat interactive. So, if there's any scenes/moments from the show that you'd like to see with their roles being reversed, let me know!**

 **Please, Enjoy!**

 **Gun Powder Stilettos**

 _Chapter 2: 57 Margaritas  
_

The cluttered collection of gold and silver keys jangle loudly in her hand as she hastily takes the wooden steps two at time. Balancing her favorite bottle of margarita mix safely tucked underneath her arm, she carefully swings the full bag of candy as she shoves the rest of a half-eaten Red Vine in her mouth.

Reaching the door marked with a shiny and slightly crooked plaque marked _3C_ , she hikes one knee up, letting the alcohol rest on her thigh as she fiddles with her keychain. Muttering a slew of expletives until she finds the right golden key. Awkwardly holding the bottle against her side, she eagerly jams the key into the lock and hip checks the door wide open.

Penelope was immediately hit with that intoxicating scent of smoked cedar from a candle she had insisted he purchase during one of their marathon shopping sprees, and the heady aroma of pizza, that greedily wafted over her. Not in the mood to wait, she kicks the door closed with the heel of her pretty boot, and quickly heads towards the savory smell.

"Hey, Baby Boy!" she shouts into the empty living room, as she comfortably walks into the open kitchen. She drops everything onto the dark granite countertop, right next to the two boxes of pizza and wings. "Mmm, come to Mama," she purrs, happily ripping open the white and green cardboard box, and grabs the first slice her eyes fall on. The greasy mozzarella oozes and clings to the other pieces. She slowly drags it away, stretching the gooey cheese before lifting it high above her head and dropping the yummy treat into her mouth. The hot, perfectly seasoned, crispy bite instantly explodes, and she hisses, making loud panting noises to ease the heat from her tongue only to throw her head back and moan as her hips shimmy in appreciation.

"Damn, Mama," that familiar timbre growled from across the room. "How come you never greet me like that?"

"If you taste as delicious as DiAngelo's fine Italian cuisine," eyes closed, she leans her dark denim clad ass against the countertop and dangles the pizza over her mouth. Gently blowing on it, she takes another large bite and then speaks with her mouth full, mumbling out a teasing. "Then I'll gladly...eat you all up. Dip you in this...tangy marina sauce...and lick you over...from head to toe..." tilting her head to the side, she finally takes a peek at him, and immediately regrets it.

Standing in the center of the living room, still dripping wet from a fresh shower, completely naked, except for the cream terry cloth towel that he held low on his hips and those dark, edgy glasses, that were still a little foggy from the steam and did absolutely nothing to disguise that permanently heated gaze he always seemed to have around her, was none other than her best friend.

"What...you...huh?" the color drains from her cheeks as her next words die on the tip of her tongue, and having forgotten the food in her mouth, she begins to choke.

Derek immediately rushes forward, one hand clutching the towel tucked around his bare hips, as his other arm reaches out to carefully pat her back.

Penelope furiously shakes her head, stumbling back as she holds her hand up to stop him. Sputtering, she stiffly swallows the doughy piece before tossing the rest into the box and reaches for the bottle of alcohol. Struggling to open the cap she nearly whines when Derek tugs it out of her flimsy grasp and replaces it with a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Giving him a rather withering glare, she twists the cap off, and begins chugging half of the refreshing drink down. The loud crinkling plastic in her hand, is the only thing heard over her ragged breaths. She continues to stare at him, as she takes small, measured sips that she slowly swishes around in her mouth.

"You okay?" Derek's concerned look is now one of amusement.

"I brought...candy," her voice is raspy, a deep husk, and she has to clear her throat several times before lamely adding. "And margaritas."

Pushing his glasses up, he gives her a look that she can't quite discern. It makes her nervous and has her tipping the plastic bag upside down, emptying the contents across the countertop. She deliberately sifts through the colorful bags of goodies, while keeping her eyes glued to the chipped, black polish on her thumb.

"Okay I'm going to go change real quick and you can start making the drinks," he steps forward. So close, she can feel the heat radiating off him, and she forgets how to breathe. His arm brushes up against her stomach, barely beneath her full breasts as he grabs her abandoned slice of pizza.

She watches him, following a droplet of water that trails down his firm bicep, which looks larger than the last time she'd seen him without a shirt. It rolls into the crook of his elbow and quickly slides down the taut muscle of his forearm before hitting his wrist and disappearing into the speckled granite below. She takes a deep breath, staring at those long fingers, intrigued by those perfect cuticles and clean nails, as he lifts the pizza and takes a huge bite.

Penelope frowns, arching a manicured brow and gets a smug, knowing wink in return. She knows she's been caught staring, practically drooling all over him. She feels bad. He obviously hadn't been expecting her to arrive so soon, and she had barged in here, without knocking. But, Derek was the one who had given her a key to his apartment. And that's what keys were for, right?

She huffed, blowing a loose blonde curl from her face. "I wasn't done with that."

"Well considering you bit off more than you can chew," his gaze locks on her throat, amber eyes dilating to a swirling dark color when he sees her neck bob as she dryly swallows and licks her lips. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, while I was gone."

Her mouth flaps open, slowly closes, then drops again from his slight innuendo. Grabbing another Red Vine, she rips a chunk off with her teeth and glares at his toweled behind as he leaves the room.

"You, beautiful jerk," she mumbles heatedly under her breath.

"Ya say somethin'?" popping his head outside the bedroom door with a coy grin plastered across his face.

"Huh? Umm...I uh...gotta _work_...on the umm...drink making stuff," gesturing wildly to the single unopened bottle in front of her.

"Oh..."

"Mmhmm, now hurry up Sugar Shack!" forcing a broad smile as she shakes off that fluttering feeling. Quickly tugging off her leather jacket, she tosses it over the back of the striped, navy blue recliner, and excitedly claps her hands. "Before this pizza gets cold! Oh, and Mama has to check on her boys!"

She opens the bottle and absently swirls the chartreuse liquid as she grabs the TV remote and starts flipping through channels. Stopping when she lands on the football game and turns the volume noticeably up. Her foot taps impatiently as she waits for the score to pop up and when it does she snorts with fierce indignation, as if she had just been personally insulted.

"What the fuck! Twenty-one to zero!" glaring at the screen, scrutinizing the players in scarlet and gold. "Oh come on! What kinda block was that? They didn't even give him a penalty! Get some new glasses you blind ass ref!" her blood pressure spikes as she shouts a slew of expletives at the television.

Forgetting the alcohol, she slumps down on the edge of the couch and turns the game up louder. Hoping to hear something that would help her favorite team pull through.

A soft chuckle tears her scowl away from the large screen and hikes her brows up in surprise when she finds Derek still standing there, staring at her.

"What?" her voice turns soft and she can't explain the sudden heat creeping across her cheeks.

"Nothin'," his blistering gaze slowly pulls away from her chest and lands on the messy kitchen table, before clearing his throat. "Just waiting to see when you realize your 49ers aren't making it to the Super Bowl this year..." he gives her a teasing wink before disappearing into his room.

"Hey! Take that back!" she gasps, taking a large swig of margarita mix only to scrunch her nose at the sweet, biting slide down her throat. "Coming from a man who only watches Doctor Dolittle!"

"It's Doctor Who!" he yells from his room, and she could just picture that pointed look he's surely giving her through the wall.

She snorts, before getting up and going back to the small kitchenette. Grabbing two large glasses she quickly wets the rims and sprinkles on the salt before tossing in some ice. Adding in the margarita mix and then a heaping amount of tequila. Slowly swirling the glass, she takes a large sip and thoughtfully smacks her lips. She shakes her head before cutting up some limes and squeezes the two juicy halves into each drink, then pours in a teensy bit more mix and then a few extra sloshes of tequila in her own glass. She sips it again and grins proudly. "MmMmm!" slapping her palm down on the counter. "Fuck, I love tequila!"

"Remember, Hot Stuff…" Derek calls from his bedroom. "We have work tomorrow!"

Penelope rolls her eyes and happily takes several long sips. Feeling the heat settle in her belly as she releases a rather large burp. She's wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the one with the singular silver spoon ring adoring her middle finger, when he peeks his head out again and gives her a concerned look.

Holding the glass up in the air, she pretends to clink it in celebration. "That's exactly why I'm drinking."

Derek emerges, arms still awkwardly half way into his beloved and nearly faded Star Wars shirt, with his glasses slightly askew. She bites her lip to keep from ogling and looks down only to stare at those fitted heather grey sweats, she's come to love on him.

"Pen..." he starts, stepping forward as he pulls his shirt over his head and lets the fabric drop over his waist.

She pouts as her favorite thing to look at disappears, and quickly shakes her head. "I'm fine," though her lip quivers and there's an unmasked lilt in her voice that says she's not. That, even though they saved Sam, they had to lose three more boys before they could find him. She doesn't want to talk about it. She just needs this drink, this movie night, and her best friend. No, she's not fine, but she will be.

Derek stops short, wanting to reach out to her but shyly scratches the back of his neck instead. He gives her a reassuring nod and starts gathering the boxes of food before carefully carrying it all into the living room.

Penelope stays put, waiting for the crashing waves of emotions to settle into the temperament of a lulling bath. It takes her a moment to follow, and she's grateful that he doesn't push, just lets her stand there in his kitchen until she can even out her breathing and shake off that dreadful energy which always lingers after an awful case.

Closing her eyes, she slowly counts a few times to a series of random, inconsequential numbers, before opening her solemn gaze again. And to her delight the first thing she spots is the unfinished board game at the center of the table. The dragons and knights are aligned on the board, surrounded by notebooks filled with impressive stats from the game. At least they were really crucial to Morgan and Lynch, and a few other techies from work. Penelope had once accidentally used one as a beverage coaster and ruined a few pages. A small shudder trickled down her spine when she remembered the agonizing hours spent drying off the paper and trying to figure out the notes, and because of that she stays far away from this place during their scheduled Wednesday Game Night.

Though, she can't help the soothing peace that sweeps over her, from simply being surrounded by good memories and adorable trinkets. Derek's apartment has always intrigued her, and she thoroughly relishes in every minute spent here. For every little nook and cranny is intricately decorated with something that screamed Derek. There was the impressive comic book collection covering the enormous bookshelves on each side of his large television screen. Then the huge gaming system by the window, with three screens and all kinds of controllers she didn't know how to play unless she slammed her thumbs quickly onto the colorful buttons.

Hell, the man even had a Death Star waffle maker. Had made her spend one Saturday afternoon eating a blueberry and chocolate chip Star Wars packed breakfast. There were even little figurines of his favorite animated characters on most of the surfaces, just like his lair at work. And each desk has a specific theme and that theme should never be messed with. Her best friend was nothing short of a neat freak. She had learned that when she had decided to mix some DC characters with some Marvel characters and she then had to sit down and learn a whole lot of information about superheroes.

She rolls her eyes, even as a small giggle escapes her mouth, and then her eyes land on the tiny fish tank. He had won the small goldfish from a visiting carnival that came to Virginia. Penelope hadn't thought she would make it back in time, but she had, and they were able to grab cotton candy, ride the Ferris Wheel, and win Derek the pet fish, now named Bonnie and Clyde.

The memory washes over her and finally the tension seeps from her body and her shoulders relax. Ready to get the night started, she grabs a handful of candy and makes her way towards her designated spot on the couch.

They always sat close together, with Derek closest to the door. Penelope had insisted the first night that she sit there, considering she was armed and trained in self-defense, but Derek wasn't having it. It was his home and he was going to protect her. Though, she didn't let that reasoning fly at her house. So, he always made sure he was on the couch first and wouldn't budge an inch.

"Uh oh," Derek clicked his tongue behind his teeth, shooting her a tentative look.

Penelope was too busy opening a box of Raisinets but when she heard the loud cheering, she looked up with excitement only to notice the other team had scored a touchdown. She growls, accidentally tearing a big hole in the yellow box, sending chocolate raisins flying across his living room. "Who the fuck taught you all to play Football!?"

Derek gently tugs the crumpled box out of her hands and passes her the nearly empty margarita instead.

She takes a sloshing sip, glaring over the rim of the glass and sits back, scrutinizing the instant replay only to make some appreciative moan. Derek's heard that before, not in the way he's ever wanted, but he knows that sound. Penelope only makes it when she really likes something, or rather someone. And he doesn't have to wait long before she tells him exactly who it is.

"Number fifty-seven," is all she says, but her eyes are bright and heavy lidded, and she has a wide, toothy grin plastered on her face. Though, there's no denying the wistful look behind her heated gaze. She's usually more cautious with her confessions, well as reserved as Penelope could be, but the combination of too much liquor and not enough pizza, meant she was well on her way to being drunk and carefree. Plus, that bad break up a few months back which she knew, he knew, hell, they all knew wasn't going to end well, had left her scorched with resentment and now she was bolder, almost shamelessly so. "I just want to sit on his face and ride him off into the sunset."

Derek snorts half the bitter drink into his nose and sputters harshly next to her. Tears reach his eyes as he glares at the man running around the field with number 57 on his jersey. Penelope gently pats his back as she daintily sips her own drink in amusement.

His face turns into a dark scowl as he fights the urge to cross his arms in front of himself. "Pssh, he's wearing a helmet. You can't even see his face."

"Oh, with an ass like that…" she sets her drink down and holds her hands up in front of her and slides them down in a wide curve. "Looks don't matter."

Derek silently hears himself mumbling nonsense about his mother not letting him join sports in high school. He was the only boy, and Fran had been a huge stickler on him always being safe. Making him join the Debate Team and Drama Club instead. Feeling eyes on him, he peels his narrowed gaze off the football game and catches Penelope's poor attempt at a demure grin. She bites her lip, only to break out into a fit of giggles, before snapping the elastic off her wrist and pulling her long hair into a messy bun atop her head.

"Little shit," he growls out, nudging her shoulder as he grabs his pizza and takes a huge chunk out of it. Though, he too, has already had his share of tequila and feels unusually daring when his next words slip out. "Well, Hot Stuff, if you ever need something to ride," licking his lips as he gives her a pointed nod. "My face is always available."

She gasps, eyes wide as saucers and he gives himself a point – Morgan, one. Garcia, zero – when a heated blush blooms across her cheeks and her mouth simply flaps open like a fish. He's made the brazen woman speechless and that's a feat in itself, and he's getting ready to tease her when she gives him whiplash and says.

"That's sweet of you, Morgan," her voice is a husky purr that makes his dick instantly perk up, and he has to uncomfortably shift in his seat. "If you ever want to ride my face…you know the offer is…"

He holds his hand up and cuts her off. Unable to handle those unspoken words from tumbling out of those pouty, garnet painted lips. Nope. Nuh uh. So, he quickly takes away her drink and hands her the biggest slice of pizza in the box. She's smirking victoriously as she takes a few bites. Once she gets to the crust, she drops it onto the paper plate before sliding back into the many superhero covered throw pillows and begins eating the scattered raisins all over her lap.

She's content for a moment, but soon finds herself unable to get comfortable, and begins to fidget. Wiggling further into the couch only to give up a minute later and stretch like a cat resting in the warm sun. Arms high above her head, she twists back-and-forth, only to shoot her hands underneath her shirt and scratch her back.

Derek tries to stay focused on the game, which he knows absolutely nothing about, but his eyes keep drifting back towards Penelope. "I don't know why you wait so long to change out of your work clothes," intently sucking BBQ sauce off his fingers before grabbing another slice of pizza.

She tosses him a napkin, and then shoves her hands back into her blouse. It's tight, black and simply plain but the wide scoop neck is rather alluring. Derek would know. Is aware that she loves those shirts and has it in several colors. They're mostly in muted hues and some bright jewel tones, that he specifically made her purchase because it brought out the honey specks of her eyes.

Struggling with the clasp, she lets out a growl and finally unhooks her bra. She swiftly yanks the straps out of each arm hole, and Derek practically inhales a chunk of mozzarella, when he watches her pull it out from under her shirt, hastily fold it up and toss it onto the recliner. His body goes completely still as he tries to remember how to chew, and breathe, and to not stare at the enticingly furled peaks bunching up the front of her shirt.

He gulps, and she asks. "Oh, what movie did you pick out?" kicking off her boots, revealing surprisingly bright polka dotted socks as she flexes her toes.

Derek, for the life of him, couldn't list a title to a single film. His mouth felt like dry cotton, and his eyes begin to frantically scroll across his massive DVD collection. Head tilting sideways to pick out a movie, only to find his gaze drifting towards the recliner and frown.

"Oh my god!" Derek's booming voice startles her.

"Jesus!" clutching her chest as her eyes frantically scan the room and the locked door, only to turn her sour glare onto him when she realizes they're not in immediate danger. She then shoves several raisins in her mouth and grumbles. "Don't do that!"

"What the hell is that?" he looks completely confused and slightly offended.

"What?"

"That!" pointing at her discarded lingerie on his chair.

Penelope rolls her eyes. "What, never seen a bra before, Baby Boy!"

"Oh, I've seen bras before, Garcia," dragging out her name in that particular way that annoys her. "Just never one so..." tentatively brushing his finger over the well-worn fabric. It's dull white, shapeless, and has absolutely no oomph. "...sad."

"Well, it's my bum-around-in bra, so..." she shrugs, quickly losing interest as she looks back at the game.

It takes a minute until she realizes he hasn't spoken, and she lowers the volume, taking a sharp breath before glancing at him.

"I thought you, Miss-Jimmy-Choo-Bargainer-Extraordinaire loved shopping?" arching that expressive brow as he dunked her left-over crust into the marinara, and then the ranch, and took a big bite.

Penelope scrunched up her perfect nose as she watched the sauce drip onto the open pizza box, before slumping back into the sofa "I love shopping. I just hate bra shopping."

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth as he does his best not to blush and blurts out. "I can help you," he utters the words with such fierce determination, she snaps her head at him ready to laugh or yell - which ever comes out first - but the sincerity behind his eyes makes her hesitate.

She stares at him. Deciding he wasn't teasing her. He was just trying to help her. Because like herself she hated for him to be hurt or uncomfortable and would do anything to protect him. So, of course, that would apply to right now. To Derek defending her breasts against tight, itchy fabric that didn't fully support her.

A small smile breaks on her face and she can't help the tiny giggle that follows as she nods. "Umm, thanks, Honey Buns. That's sweet of you. But I'm fine."

"No," he adamantly shakes his head, unsure himself why he's so intent on doing something that makes his mouth water with images of her dressed up in strikingly beautiful lingerie. She has the body for it. All those luscious curves in all the right places. Tossing the crust down, he turns towards her. "I can't have you chasing UnSub's down knowing you're running around in the equivalent of Granny Panties."

"Hey!" she sits up a little miffed. "They're not that bad."

"Baby," clasping a hand comfortingly over her knee, letting his thumb trail gentle circles. "What if, God forbid, you had an accident and needed CPR or something."

She blanched at that and cocked her head in contemplation. "Jeez," nodding softly. "You're right. Oh gosh, imagine poor Reid doing compressions on me and that's the first bra he sees," her hand comes up to play with her bottom lip. "Oh, that would be bad."

"Super bad," Derek nods in agreement.

"Okay, fine, you're right. I need to go shopping," she admits, spotting another raisin that she quickly pops into her mouth.

"No, _we_ need to go. Together," pointing between them, while giving her a look that brooked no argument. "Can't have you tempted to buy any more of those."

She pats his hand resting on her knee and snorts, before kicking her feet onto the table and leans back. "It's amazing how I love to stare at those kissable lips of yours, but damn do they say the craziest shit."

"No, seriously," daring to give the frumpy T-Shirt bra another sympathetic look. "Can I burn it."

"Morgan!" she hisses. "Hurry up and pick out our movie!"

To be continued…


	3. Pink Secrets

**A/N I do not own Criminal Minds or Victoria's Secret. Hello everyone! This chapter took on a life of its own, but was definitely fun to write. As always, Garcia and Morgan are cute, and complicated :) Anyway, here's the next chapter and my other stories shall be updated soon!  
**

 **Please, Enjoy!**

 **Gun Powder Stilettos**

 _Chapter 3: Pink Secrets  
_

The small, black signs with bold, hot pink letters speckled with glitter, were loud and confusing, at least to the man standing in the center of the store completely lost. He stood there, fiddling with the rolled sleeve of his fitted button up shirt and adjusted his glasses, right between a stark white table stacked delicately with selections of barely there panties and a spinning rack filled with sheer black and red sleepwear.

He supposed it was appealing, if one preferred garments that looked like a litter of kittens had used their claws to mangle it. A smile tugged at his lips when the alluring image of Penelope wearing the long-sleeved nightie came to mind. She could make a garbage bag look sexy, so, maybe, if the right woman was wearing the obscene fabric, he wouldn't mind it so much. No, not at all. He would gladly buy the damn thing in several different colors. His small grin was now a beaming smirk and he found himself reaching forward to touch the finely woven fishnet when the harsh reminder that he wasn't here for sexy nighties, barreled through him. He was here for Penelope. His best friend. Who, most definitely, wasn't going to be riding his dick wearing Victoria's Secret anytime soon.

That sobering thought slammed him back down to Earth. Steeling his shoulders, he took a deep breath and looked up only to spot a very curvy and eloquently posed mannequin stationed proudly on the table next to him. He silently giggled at the poor plastic. That thing had nothing on his girl. Hell, Penelope should do the store a favor and offer to model her body for the designs on these flimsy dolls. Her curves always drew attention, and though she frequently flaunted them, she was unaware of the affects her voluptuous cleavage and shapely hips had on people. Shaking his head, only to find himself once again staring at the mannequin. Wearing a plunging purple bra with matching feathered wings and a bright blue tutu and Derek wasn't sure if he should chuckle or run away. Maybe bra shopping wasn't so bad after all? Though, the sudden strain in his pants made him go completely still. He swallowed heavily and discreetly backed away.

The last thing he needed was a raging boner in the middle of a women's lingerie store. He'd probably get banned for life, then get kicked out, and then receive a serious ass whooping from Penelope. Then how would he help his best friend find a bra? No, not good! He was here for a purpose, and he needed to focus and stick with the plan. Though, Derek had proudly tooted his own horn in front of Penelope, now standing inside the intimate apparel outlet he felt overwhelmed and suddenly realized why his Hot Stuff avoided this store like the plague.

Arriving at the mall, they were only supposed to stop at an indiscreet hole-in-the-wall department store. With no frills or loud bubblegum pop music. Basically, nothing super pink and really girly. That was all fine and dandy, until Derek's ever curious gaze landed on the popular name brand store filled with teeny tiny, tantalizingly secret ensembles and had practically hauled the stubborn blonde inside. They were immediately greeted by a chipper saleswoman, who had eagerly dragged Penelope behind some black curtains, when Derek emphasized he had caught her wearing an ugly, unfitted bra. That had earned him a death glare worthy of a singe mark, to which he had flashed her a toothy confident grin in return.

Now, he had been left alone to fend for himself amongst a sea of bras and panties. All silk, cotton and lace, from fierce neon's to soft pinks and dreamy whites. Besides the typical lace bra, Derek had very little knowledge about undergarments, which is exactly why he had spent the rest of the week doing diligent research.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly scanned through his notes and then intently perused the large room, only to grin when he found what he was looking for. Heading towards a shiny rectangular table that was doused in rich pink hues and was covered with open drawers of adorably patterned bras. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and grabbed a bright yellow bra, squinting over his frames as he tried to find the information about the size. Turning the bra over, looking for a tag, he realized how tight the elastic felt and how the underwire was very unforgiving beneath his grip. He definitely wouldn't want to wear the sturdy contraption. But it was really pretty.

"Hi, I'm Ashley! Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"I need a bra," Derek blurted out, accompanied by a nervous grin as he held the squishy bra up, which appeared almost puny in his large hands. "Well..." finally looking up at the young woman's face, he froze. The girl was probably barely starting college, and he suddenly lost all bravado, and sense. "Well um...my girl...she's here with me. Not that we're with each other. But we're here...together...in the store. But I'm...she's um...we need a- _she_ needs a bra. Like this!" clearing his throat as he held the bra up again only to fumble and nearly drop it.

"Oh, okay! So, a push up bra!" Ashley nodded her head and immediately started picking out different colors with the same cut. "Those really give the girls a nice lift, without being too much. As we say flashy, but classy!"

"Huh...what?" Derek blinked, realizing what the extra padding in his hands were that he had been squeezing. Turning the bra around he spotted the extra support and steadily ran his thumb over it, before carefully putting it back down. "Oh. Wow! Okay! Yeah, my Pen is definitely classy. I don't know if she needs the extra padding though. She kinda already has enough of..." slowly waving his hands around his chest. "You know like they're umm...already big."

"Oh well, these will still offer support and make outfits more flattering if she's…let's say dressing up, but if she wants something more for every day, then we also have some comfortable T-shirt bras or really sporty bralettes."

Derek's smile was strained as he tried to seem like he knew exactly what the saleswoman was talking about. The words sounded familiar but standing in the store surrounded by beautifully expensive, barely-there fabric, seemed to have stripped him of any sense. So, instead, he politely nodded along and followed her towards a large round table in the center.

"Well if she has larger breasts," Ashley tilted her in head in contemplation. "I don't know if she would want to deal with strapless all day. She'd have to be tugging it up. So, let's check out this side!" rounding the table on her glossy Mary Janes, she swept her hand out across the neat piles of revealing lingerie. "How about these?"

"Oh?" Derek put his hand on his hips, thumbs grazing over his crisp, tucked in shirt as he carefully eyed the table. "Ah huh!" throwing out the agreement to what exactly, he didn't know. "She wants some in white and nude for work. But I think the blacks would be lovely on her, too!"

"Aww, you're so sweet!" Ashley cooed, happily flipping through the more subdued section. "We can start picking out a few different cuts and see what fits her best. Do you know what size she is?"

"Umm well, um...their um..." mouth suddenly parched, he had to lick his lips before holding his hands awkwardly out in front of his chest as he cupped his fingers to make some sort of shape. "Well kinda like...well, they're not small...more like..."

The saleswoman nibbled on her bottom lip, poorly disguising her amused chuckle as she quickly pulls out a few sizes. "Ok, how about these? Bigger or smaller?" holding up a size so Derek could eye the silk cream bra with hints of frilly lace.

"Oh, no!" Derek adamantly shook his head, giving the flimsy bra a rather distasteful look. "Bigger!" he said it with such determination as if Penelope's honor was on the line.

The woman smirked and put the bra back, before holding up the next size. "Okay, so not a B-cup. Maybe a C?"

"Nope."

"She's probably more this size then, or maybe even a double," Ashley held up the next size which was significantly larger than the first and he had to clear his throat several times.

"Umm...maybe?" gently running his finger over the front clasp, he gave the woman a smile. "So, is this a balconette bra?" throwing out the fanciest word his mind could rummage up.

Ashley gasped, and if her hands weren't full, he would bet money that she'd be clapping with pure admiration. "Well, close! It's actually a convertible bra. So, it can have the straps like this..." she held it up and excitedly flipped it back-and-forth, then she did some fast maneuvering that had Derek in awe and mouth falling open when the straps suddenly crisscrossed each other. She then dangled the bra from the straps, beautifully showcasing the intricate design, before unsnapping it entirely and stretching out the material. "Or strapless."

"Wow!" he nodded along completely stunned. "The engineering on these things are incredible!"

"I'll say..." Ashley snorted, handing the fabric over, watching as Derek fumbled to put one strap back in. "Don't worry it's a little tricky," shaking her head as she adjusted her sparkly pink headband. "Besides men usually only care about taking them off!"

"Oh, well, ha…no, I wouldn't be...I mean, not that I don't wanna…" Derek mumbled, cheeks heating at the implication, only for a lady with a fussy baby on her hip and a sleeping toddler in a stroller to interrupt him as she rushed over.

"I'm sorry, do you have any more of these?" holding up a cotton bra with the cups hanging open. "I can't seem to find them anywhere!"

Ashley gave Derek a tentative look, but he smiled and encouraged her to help the frazzled mother. Giving him a thankful smile, she nodded and ushered the woman towards the back of the store.

Derek struggled a few more minutes with the thin straps before hurriedly tucking them into the cups and placing the bra back down. Doing his best to make it look not so out of place. Feeling beads of sweat trickle down his neck he turned around, needing to find some space to cool off when he spotted the area dedicated to unraveling all the juicy secrets that the mysterious Victoria has been hiding.

Without thought, he stepped forward and grabbed the enticingly erotic nightie. Enjoying the feeling of smooth silk beneath his fingertips, he was gearing up to persuade Penelope to buy one, not that she necessarily needed one but if it felt this lovely in his hands then he was sure she'd enjoy sleeping in it. Not that it was meant for sleeping. No, nothing this tiny and teasingly transparent was designed for simply sleeping. The thin fabric was meant for fucking. For those delicate satin straps to hang off a woman's shoulder as she fervently rode her man. He gulped, feeling that pulsing ache press behind the buckle of his jeans, which forced him to take several calculated breaths and did very little to alleviate that tension coiling up inside. Though, once he could see straight, he looked towards the changing rooms, wondering what was taking Penelope so long, when somebody suddenly spoke up from behind him.

"You know, handsome, those sexy little numbers..." the sales lady's voice was raspy and dripping with such forced sensuality, it made him cringe. His eyes dropped to her badge and read Tonya. "Are part of our PINK promo happening right now, and with it being an annual sale they're an extra thirty percent off!"

"Huh?" Derek nodded, looking between the hot red lace nightie and the angelic pink one with the pretty satin bow pinned exquisitely between the large cups. "Are these the only colors you have?"

That Cheshire grin spread over her face, revealing perfect stark white teeth that resembled the ferocity of a shark. "Oh, of course!" letting her hand gingerly rest on his bicep, giving it a quick squeeze before her fingers slowly traced down his arm. "They're on this rack over here!"

Derek tucked the flashy lingerie underneath his arm and hesitantly followed the petite woman around several racks, doing his best to avoid bumping into small groups of chatting women, who all seemed to get struck with a fit of giggles when he passed through.

"Here you go!" she beamed, throwing her arms out like a flight attendant to showcase the rack hanging higher up on the wall. He half expected a bright light to turn on and little baby angels to sing a beautiful melody.

"Oh, wow..." his voice grew husky as his hand came out to warily touch the dark emerald nightie. It was completely sheer, with intricate floral stitching, and was held up by two lace straps. Though the tiny matching lace thong hidden in the middle, had him fidgeting on the spot. Handing over the forgotten lingerie, he reached up and grabbed the beautiful number off the rack. "How much is this one?"

"Jewel tones are always a classy choice," giving him a knowing wink as she featured the deep purple and lovely maroon right next to it. "They're a little pricey, but with the promo it should mark it down half off."

"I want all three," eagerly nodding in agreement as he checked for the right size, only to remember he didn't know Penelope's size. That's why she was in the fitting room. He peered back over to those dark curtains only for a tornado of blonde, sharp clicking heels, and that striking aroma of jasmine and peaches to waft over him.

"Hey, Goddess! There you are!" shooting her a goofy grin as he held the indecent fabric high above his head. "What size are you?"

Penelope was red faced and her high ponytail was now flattened and crooked with wispy bangs sticking up wildly around her forehead as she gave him a rather dark scowl. "We gotta go."

"These are on sale!" he chirped, pressing the three pretty nighties into her hands.

"Morgan," she gritted out, though it lost the ferocity when her honey eyes dropped to his feet. He instantly recognized the tight quiver in her voice. "Sorry, excuse us," giving the other woman a polite nod as he quickly wrapped a strong arm around Penelope's back and whisked her towards a quiet corner of the overtly feminine and luminously pink store.

"Baby, what's wrong?" firmly holding her shoulders as he tried to catch her watery gaze, but she kept it glued on the sparkly black tile.

"Nothing," she sniffled, clutching the fabric tightly in her grasp. "I just wanna go."

"Pen," he lowered his voice, gently placing his finger under her chin and lifting it up. "What happened?"

"They don't know what the hell they're doing!" she practically seethed, finding that fire that had momentarily dimmed.

"Who?"

"The lady with the stupid tape!" Penelope snorted, shrugging her shoulders. "There's no way I'm an E-Cup! She even had me try on an F!"

Derek wisely remained quiet, until he asked. "So…they didn't fit?" only to lower his head and whisper. "We're they, too, small?"

Penelope stepped back, honey eyes swirling with fury "Ugh!" shoving the nighties back into his hands, she easily twirled on those deadly high heel boots and was already half way through the store before Derek's mind caught up.

He pushed his arm through the crook of her elbow and gently twisted them around, so he was now in front of the exit. "Hey, Hard Head," holding her back as she tried to side step him. "We came here for a bra and that's what we're getting."

"I'm carrying, and I'm not afraid to use it," Penelope arched a brow as her fingers locked tightly around his wrist.

"You love me, too much, to shoot me," he chuckled, but when her face remained stoic, he cleared his throat and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Look, who cares what number and letter are on your bra. Why walk around uncomfortable if you can prevent it? Besides I even brought one of those tapes if you want to check your size," pulling out the long cloth measuring tape from his pocket. "I looked up how to properly measure breasts last night. And, actually, it's a lot easier than I thought! It's really all about subtraction, and some cuts are sized differently so..." his voice trailed off when he heard that distinct heel tapping against linoleum.

"Morgan..."

"Garcia..."

She glared.

And he smirked.

"Did you really bring a fabric tape measure to the frickin' mall?" glaring at the flimsy laminated cloth unspooling in his large palm.

"Uh, yeah," he snorted, giving her a look like it was an obvious choice.

"Why?"

"For your boobs," he gestured towards her chest. "Aren't you supposed to bring your own?"

"No!" she barked, slapping her palm flat against her forehead only to drag it through her now frizzy bangs. "Who does that!? We don't even need it. I know what size I am!"

"Well, you're supposed to put this around your chest, like below your armpits…" loosening the fabric tape, he began to precisely wrap it around his own chest, only for Penelope to quickly snatch it away from him and shove it into her purse. Though her purse was rather small, so half of the tape was now dangling out of the zipper. "…so you can correlate it to the size chart…" he lamely finished off, standing there with his arms still pinned beneath his armpits.

She stood there stumped, with a bewildered look on her face as if she had just watched him sprout an extra head on his shoulder.

"Did you…wanna see my notes?" he waggled his brows, and she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it all. Though, he couldn't help the wide beaming grin from crossing his face when she finally slumped her shoulders and giggled.

"You're incorrigible, you know that, right?" she shook her head, as she grabbed her long hair and pulled it tighter atop her head.

"Come on, just one bra!" tilting his head to catch her watery gaze. "Just turn that beautiful ass of yours around and get a bra. I'll even get you that fake ice cream you love so much. With the hard-shell chocolate!"

Penelope chewed on her bottom lip, then blew her bangs out of her face. "Fine! One bra! And it's FroYo and I want it with extra cookie dough and those cheesecake bites!"

"Done!"

"And, Morgan?" she queried, giving him a rather suspicious look.

"Hmm?" closing his mouth, letting his tongue pick at his teeth in case he had some of that spinach wrap from breakfast stuck in his gums.

"Why are you holding those nighties?" she arched that manicured brow and pursed her lips in accusation.

"Umm…oh these, these are for…umm…" looking at the gorgeous garments in his hands that now looked rather scandalous in the section filled with socks, robes, and sweat pants. "For the…umm…"

"Put them back," she tsked, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes that he caught right before she turned back into the store.

"Yep," he nodded dropping the lingerie onto the closest table with shower gels and face masks. "Putting them back. Like I never had them!"

Thirty minutes later, Derek was holding up a plunging navy-blue bra with matching panties on the hanger. "Baby, how 'bout this! You can wear it with that summer dress you have. You know the one that separates in the front."

"Morgan!" she hissed, shoving several bras back on the rack as she glared at the obscene objects in his hand. "I need work bras, not itty-bitty-rip-this-off-and-suck-my-titties bras!"

Derek harshly swallowed, eyes wide in shock as he admired the nearly see-through attire. Puffing out his cheeks, he clicked his teeth before agreeing, and slowly put it back.

"Hey!" that familiar voice rang out and Derek wanted to shout in triumph. "Have you found what you were looking for?"

"Penelope, this is Ashley! Ashley, Penelope!" Derek nodded, pushing Penelope closer as he stepped back. "Ashley here is really nice and knows all about bras! Like taking them apart and putting them back together!"

Penelope stared at him, for a long moment, and then finally blew out the breath she had been holding and gave Ashley a small smile. "Umm…hello."

"I wasn't sure if you left, but I saw you two looking around for a while, so I gathered some bras up and placed them in one of the rooms, if you want to try them on!" Ashley looked down, staring at the agent's chest. And then gave Derek a knowing wink. "See you were right! Those are definitely double-D's!"

"Right!" Penelope slapped her palm against her denim clad thigh, as her sleek purse fell against the curve of her hip. "That's what I've been saying! I put on a couple of pounds, but I know they didn't all go to my tits!"

Derek was wholeheartedly nodding along, only to stop and shake his head when Penelope gave him a look, and then chirped. "What room?"

"Come on you two this way!" Ashley led them through the blended sea of sweet and naughty garments and brought them to a larger changing room. It had a small cushioned bench in front of the curtain that Derek happily plopped down on. He was all for looking at bras and panties all day, but the stagnant floral perfumes, fluorescent lights, and constant chatter were starting to give him a headache. Plus, his feet were starting to hurt. "Okay, I picked these T-shirt bras out in more every day colors. That won't show through your shirts," holding up the whites, satiny creams, soft pinks and dainty nudes that had hints of dark lace adorning them. "I got them all a size above and below the size we figured you were. And remember some brands run bigger. Others smaller. So, once you find the fit you like, you can select the colors you want. Also…" she grabbed the small rolling device filled with her professional selection. "I found some that are a bit more…classy," giving Derek a teasing smirk before showcasing the padded blacks, plunging rubys, and those lovely emerald and violet balconette bras, Derek had discovered were by far his favorite. "Take your time! If you need any help adjusting them I'll be right outside!" shooing Penelope quickly into the bright room, as she struck up an easy conversation with Derek about her Calculus professor.

Almost an hour had gone by when the ragged pair finally emerged from the depths of the changing rooms. Penelope now had at least a dozen different bras, and upon both Ashley and Derek's insistence, matching panties to go along with them. Though Derek had to remain completely silent while she made her selection between the tantalizing thongs, silk bikinis, and graphic boy shorts. They finally moseyed up to the cash register, with Ashley excitedly leading the way.

"You two are just so adorable!" Ashley giggled, as she expertly rang up each item and neatly folded them into that distinctly striped bag. "I totally ship you guys!"

"Huh?" Penelope tilted her head, a small blush painting her cheeks, while Derek scrunched up his nose and muttered. "Ship?"

"Mmhmm," Ashley beamed. "Even though you two look like complete opposites…" giving Penelope's intricately black cut-up, rock band, tank top, black skinny jeans, and those buckled ankle boots a nice perusal, only to then wave her hand up-and-down Derek's sleek fitted button up, relaxed washed up jeans and those perfectly cleaned red converse. "You two just…go together."

Penelope licked her lips, unable to hide that bashful smile as her hand froze inside her purse as she searched for her wallet, only to catch Derek's stoic face as he stared straight ahead. "Umm…yeah…well, you know…sorry, how much is it?"

"Oh, I got it," Derek's hand zoomed passed Penelope's head as he handed over his debit card. "My gift to you, Pretty Mama."

"You are not buying me push-up bras and thongs, Derek!" she deadpanned, cheeks blooming a fierce scarlet. "When a man buys a woman lingerie there's a reason for it!"

Ashley's eyes shot wide open, hand frozen in the air with the superhero printed plastic, as she desperately tried to hide her knowing grin.

Derek's lips pursed and his brows knit tightly together as he kept his eyes glued on his best friend. "Oh really? Why's that?"

"You know why!"

"No, I really don't."

"Morgan!"

"Garcia!"

A long beat of silence past between the pair, and Ashley finally dared to ask. "Did you still want to purchase these?"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Oh, no worries, take your time…" shaking her head, Ashley busied herself with organizing loose hangers.

"So what if I buy you underwear…" Derek scoffed. He was just trying to treat his friend. Why was it such a big deal? "What, now I can't buy you a gift?"

"I never said that!" jutting her hip out as she turned to fully look at him. "It's just…you know…" vaguely waving her hands in the air. "There's an expectation there. A man only buys a woman lingerie because they're gonna…you know…after… and since, we're not…that…" loosely gesturing between them, searching for those elusive words. "…you know…so you shouldn't…because…"

"Oh, okay, so I can help you find bras and panties all morning, but God forbid I pay for them!"

"We're not dating, Derek!" she screeched, her words crashing over the music streaming from the speakers. She winced, taking a deep breath before speaking quietly. "So there's no need for you to buy my underwear. I mean I appreciate the sentiment, I really do," giving him a small smile that crinkled her eyes and made her look so damn innocent. "But it's okay."

"Yeah," he nodded, taking back the abandoned card on the counter. "But I don't know what you're so afraid of. I mean just because I'm buying them for you, doesn't mean I want you to wear them for me. You don't have to worry about it."

He was only trying to calm her nerves, ease that anxiety that seemed to bubble up anytime they toed that precarious line, but the moment he saw her face crumple and then twist into jaded lines, he immediately regretted it. "Shit, Pen…I didn't mean…not like…you know…I…I mean I know we're not…" he floundered for words. None of which could take back what had already been said. There was just so much tension unleashed inside of him. Years of pent up frustration towards the woman, standing right next to him, that he spent every night dreaming about. And having spent the whole morning cooped up inside a store filled with intimate apparel had perhaps made him a little cranky. Bitter. And rather foolish.

Penelope went still, eyes shifting to the floor as she fiddled with the fringe of her tank top. "Yeah, I know," she mumbled quietly, before hurriedly fumbling with her purse and taking out her wallet. "Here, you go Ashley. You can put it on this, thank you."

Ashley nibbled on her lip and slowly took the purple card before swiping it through and printed out the receipt. "Um, okay well thank you for shopping with us today! If you have any questions or concerns, please call this number. And if you take the survey on the back you can win…" flashing the receipt, only to realize her words were falling on deaf ears as the not so couple-y couple stared daggers at each other. She then tucked it safely in the bag and pushed it forward. "Have a nice day!"

Penelope took her card back, grabbed the pink bag and spun on her heels, leaving him standing miserably at the counter.

"You should probably follow her…" Ashley whispered, passing him a free packet of floral printed tissues.

Derek gave her a tight smile and then slowly headed towards the parking lot. Though, he took his time, needing to cool off and considering he had been the one to drive them to the mall, Penelope was stuck without him. He stopped at a pretzel place and grabbed the saltiest one they had, and even splurged on an extra cheese sauce, before finally sauntering out into the warm afternoon sun.

Walking through the glaring sea of shiny cars he found her leaning against Rusty. His old beat-up Chevrolet. Penelope's arms were crossed as she peeked over her sunglasses, which barely masked the small streaks of mascara on her rosy cheeks. "You still owe me FroYo," canting her head, daring him to argue. "And you have the keys…"

Derek felt his heart twist at the pain he had inadvertently caused, only to mask his own disappointment by tearing off a big doughy bite with his teeth. She was hurt, and obviously still pissed, and he couldn't quite pinpoint exactly why. Even though, he knew damn well he had stuck his foot in his mouth, and stomped on that _lets-pretend-we-don't-have-out-of-this-world-chemistry_ landmine. He had pushed her, when she was already frazzled and feeling exposed from a rough day of nitpicking over her size, which he believed with every fiber of his being was perfect, but what she felt was too curvy.

So, yes, Penelope was upset, but at least she was talking to him. Handing her the rest of the treat, he unlocked the dented door and helped her up inside. Quickly jogging around the truck, he slid into the cab and gave her a furtive glance. She was already munching on the pretzel and turning the volume up on her favorite station.

"You know, my yogurt's not gonna make itself," came her low murmur as she stared straight ahead and stole the extra cheese dip.

He chuckled and put the truck into gear, feeling the knot of tension, that had settled over his heart, release, just a teensy bit.

To be continued…


End file.
